BY MARY N. PRESCOTT.
Dainty little Daisy
Sits waiting for the sun—
Says she's almost crazy
To take a little run
On the hill to show her frill,
Or by the road to stray;
But she's kept in-doors till
Spring says she may.
Dandy little Buttercup,
Waiting for June weather,
In his earthy bed tucked up,
Wakes, and wonders whether
He will sprout and soon shine out
In his gold array,
Or in doubt be left to pout
Till Spring says he may.
Pussy-Willow, soon astir,
Makes an early start,
Thickens all her silver fur
Just to look smart;
Longs to break the spell, and take
Her own sweet way
Before the rest are wide awake;
And Spring says she may.
[TROUT-FISHING.]
BY W. M. LAFFAN.
There are two ways of taking trout—one at the top of the water, and the other beneath it. The latter is commonly known as bait-fishing, while the former is called fly-fishing.
Fly-fishing is undoubtedly the greater sport, and requires more delicacy and skill of handling than the other; but it is also much more expensive by reason of the cost of the rod, the line, the flies, and the various small matters that a fly-fisher always wants. Then, again, it happens that there are days when a trout will not rise at a fly, but when if you whisk a ripe red angle-worm or a fat grasshopper under his nose he will promptly take in either; and after such remonstrance as it may be in him to offer, he will get into your basket, or find himself strung on your willow twig. There are also streams wherein the water is at times thick and murky, and where the fish lurk about the bottom of the deep holes and eddies, and can not see the fly when it is thrown. In such places the bait has to be brought very close to their notice, and it must also be fresh, or frequently they will have none of it.
A fly rod for trout should be about fourteen feet long, seven ounces or thereabouts in weight, and should be fitted with a good reel that will let the light line, which is of silk or of linen fibre, run out freely, and then wind it again as quickly. Such a rod may cost a good deal of money—seventy-five dollars, for instance, if you prefer a split bamboo rod of a certain maker's work. There are fly rods which you can bend until you take the tip and butt into one hand, but which will fly out straight again on being released. A rod of this sort is a very pretty affair, but quite as many trout are likely to be taken with a much cheaper one.
In the days, however, when I fished more than, I am sorry to say, I do now, I had a rod which was not worth much more than fifty cents, the line and lead, sink and hook, included; and yet with that rod I have outdone many a fisherman who possessed the most expensive kind of an outfit. I thought that had I had their costly outfits, their books of flies for all seasons, weathers, and hours, their taper rods, their silk lines and whirring reels, their prodigal lengths of gut, their trim baskets, and their luxury of small fixings, I should have cleaned out our river at will. But I learned later that in trout-fishing a vast deal more depends upon the fisherman than upon any apparatus he may be supplied with.
